


First Times

by epic_cephalopod



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Cardassians, Character Study, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, First Time, creepy mentor is creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 09:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16302827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epic_cephalopod/pseuds/epic_cephalopod
Summary: Elim Garak's first time is not what he expected.





	First Times

On the day of his coming of age, after his evening meal with Mila and Tolan, Elim Garak was summoned to the private office of Enabran Tain. This was not a common occurrence. In all his years, Elim had been inside Tain's office 3 times, and none of them had been pleasant. He did not anticipate this one being a particularly good either. Tain had been waiting for him, not behind his vast desk but rather, he was seated in the informal area of the office, in his throne like chair.

Elim approached him, his hands up and facing Tain; the greeting of an adult Cardassian to another, bowing deep to indicate Tain was of a higher status than himself.

“Ah, Elim, thank you for joining me. Fetch a glass and pour the kanar.” he paused, and smiled. It was a terrible smile “Pour yourself one as well. It’s your first, is it not?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much.” he joined Tain after retrieving two delicate glasses of the liquor. Naturally, he served Tain first, standing awkwardly, until Tain gestured for him to sit.

He sat, tucking his still gangly limbs into a proper adult Cardassian posture, back straight and firm. It stood in a stark contrast to Tain who was relaxed, leaning back with legs up on a little pouf and swirling his kanar while staring down at Elim.

On the table between them was a small, rectangular box. Tain nodded for him to open it, and he did, revealing a Cardassian srict’va, a traditional coming of age gift. The knife selected by Tain was plain, simple, but a very fine tool. A smooth black handle, shape reminiscent of the Union’s symbol. The sheath was a flat green, and without looking, Elim knew the blade would be sharp as a whisper. He’d honed Tain’s knife enough times to know.

“Well Elim, today in the eyes of Cardassia, you are man. Cheers.” he raises his glass in a small toast, and Elim follows suit, sipping the thick liqueur, feeling a burst of warmth and sweetness as the liquor hit his tongue. It was very good.

From the way Tain looked at him, he knew that it was only the eyes of Cardassia that saw him as a man, and not Tain. He hoped whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be painful. “There is, of course, more to adulthood than simply reaching the age of majority, as I’m sure you know. Tonight, we will attend to others. I’m taking you to visit some...friends of mine.”

Elim did not like the look Tain was giving him. This was no gift. This was a trap, somehow. It was always a trap, but Elim knew better than to say anything about that. “Thank you, i’duxt. I am honoured, as always, by your mentorship of someone an insignificant as myself. Thank you.”

Tain nodded, approvingly. “Good. Be ready to leave in 10 minutes. Dismissed.”

Elim finished his kanar, bowed again, and went to get his traveling cloak.

\----  
Enabran Tain was a very hands on mentor with young Elim Garak; which is why Elim found himself, ten minutes later, in a skimmer heading into one of the seedier parts of the capital city.

The building they settled near was nondescript from the outside; grey stone, no name. Just a sign next to the door, painted with a riding hound, crouched down on its front legs, head arching back and hindquarters up, and Elim realized they were going to a brothel. Well. This shouldn’t be too bad. Hopefully. Elim had never had overly romantic notions about his first time, nor about sex in general. Cardassians, unlike some species, placed no great emphasis on virginity or the lack thereof, and he was unsure why Tain would be seeing to...this.

He really hoped Tain would not expect him to perform while he watched.

Once inside, Tain left Elim standing just outside the front parlour while he went off to see the proprietress. The brothel was gaudy, in that way so many are across the universe; some perverse echo across planets, species, cultures; garish colours and dim lamps from amber to red, gilt furniture just out of fashion. Women sat in the front parlour playing cards, flirting with men, serving drinks. One sat to the side, idley plucking a song out on a zyre, a Cardassian instrument similar to shamishan laid flat across one’s lap. The room was filled with smoke, perfume, and was thick with pheromones.

The women wore a traditional Cardassian garment called a virkalen, a sort of item that was made from a long bolt of light fabric, which could be wrapped artfully around the body to be draped and tied in various styles. Mila had one, which she wore on formal occasions, but she never wore hers like _this_. These women had their virkalen draped and tied to show off their bodies in a way Elim hadn’t imagined before. One woman stood up, and he could see the garment was wrapped low around her hips, scandalously exposing her the top of her chuva, then wrapped up and around her the back of her neck barely covering her ample breasts and baring the swirling scales and ridges running down her back.

Elim swallowed hard. He was nervous, yes, but all the bare flesh and pheremones were getting him worked up. While he had of course seen naked people, this was not at all the same as going to the public baths, sunning or swimming.

He focused on his breathing; he very much felt like he would evert right then and there and did not want to embarass himself. Then the woman with the magnificent breasts who had just stood was walking in his direction. He started doing sums in his head, pressing his thighs together and trying not to look at her swaying hips as she sinuously walked towards him.

She smiled at him, all sharp teeth and cerulean lips, and he tried not to stare at her breasts as she came up to him boldly, taking him by the arm and playfully tugging him into the parlour. He followed, unsure how to proceed, as she steered him towards an empty couch.

“Come sit with my you beautiful young man, and tell me your name. Perhaps we can be friends tonight.” A sly wink and another blue lipped smile. Her eyes were the soft violet of Edosian orchids.

“M-my name is Elim.”

“Elim! How lovely. I am Dejara.” she sat, patting the couch beside her. He sat next to her lounging form, hand clasped together. Dejara motioned towards another woman who brought them drinks. This kanar was less viscous and Elim enjoyed the sweet fizz of the bubbles this drink had. Perhaps he was too quick to finish it, but he was nervous and Dejara just laughed , waving over another one for him. She laughed a lot. Elim liked that.

“Now Elim, drink this one more slowly, and savour it! That's the way to enjoy your kanar.”

Elim sipped his drink obediently, and the sudden hush in the room followed by cautiously returning conversation, which always preceded him, alerted Elim that Tain had entered the room and was slowly working his way over to them. Very slowly; several women stopped him along the way, leaning in to kiss his cheek or say something quietly to him, laying their hands on his arm or shoulders. By the time he reached Elim and Dejara, there was a young lady on his arm.

“Dejara! How are you my dear?” He took the hand she offered him, kissing it.

“Why Enabran, you rascal! You haven’t come to see me in months and now you come with a friend?” She playfully pouted, batting her lashes at Tain while she settled back on the couch, nodding at Elim.

“Ah ah ah, I would feel bad if I didn’t know how much you liked cutting your teeth fine young males such as Elim here!” Tain clapped him on the shoulder and winked conspiratorially at Dejara, who’s eyes lit up.

“I see! Well in that case, I do believe we shall have quite an...educational evening, won’t we Elim?” She boldly slid her hand up Elim’s thigh and laughed again as he coughed on his drink. “Yes...quite a lesson.”

“I’m glad you understand, my dear. Elim, I will collect you later.” Tain gave a little bow before leaving with his companion.

“Well my handsome young friend, it seems we’ve got a lesson to take care of, and it's far too loud in here to hear properly. Let's go somewhere quieter, hm?” she purred, pressing closer to him, hand sliding further up his thigh. He gulped and nodded, and they stood. Dejara led him out the same way Tain had just gone, and took him through a series of hallways with doors. Finally they reached her quarters, and she opened the door, gesturing Elim to go in first while she set the door locks.

The room was simply but tastefully decorated. On one side, a bed was visible just past privacy screens. On the other, a door which led to a small privy. The main portion of the room held a small table and two chairs, a bookcase, a vanity, and a large chaise lounge more than big enough for two Cardassians.

Elim made a beeline for the book case, as he always did. He was surprised to find a wide variety of texts, such as the Cardassian classic works of Iloja of Prim and Preloc, the expected repetitive epics, of course including the much beloved, “Never Ending Sacrifice”. But it was the shelf of enigma tales that captured his attention so well he didn’t notice Dejara slide up behind him until her hands were on his shoulders.

“Ahh, I see you enjoy my collection!” she purred next to his ear. He tried to jump, but her hands were firm on his shoulders, kneading them firmly and working her way in towards his neck ridges. “But we shall have time to talk later. Come join me on the chaise.” a quick nip on his neck ridge, and Elim shuddered. She didn’t wait for him to reply, simply pulled him back and sat him down, before climbing onto his lap. “Now, let's take the edge off before we get down to some real education, hm?”

Elim tried to speak but before he could make words work, she was kissing him, and stroking his neck ridges so delightfully. She placed his hands on her body, and he tentatively explored the ridges along her back as she plundered his mouth and plucked at his clothing. It wasn’t long before she’d gotten him undressed and had him panting and everted on the chaise. Her virkalen had fallen away with a few tugs at some point, and he enjoyed the sight of her nude body; heavy breasts and ajan hot and blooming open as he stroked her tentatively where ever he could reach.

Finally, Dejara pulled Elim on top of her; wrapping one long leg around his waist and guiding his prUt to her ajan. Elim gasped, arms trembling as he held himself just above her. Her leg other leg slid around his, trapping him against her, and she began to undulate underneath him, ajan snug around his irllum, each swirl and writhe a burst of pleasure, and he surged forward, moving in counterpoint to her undulations, thrusting and writhing against her.

She twined her arms around his back, reaching to stroke his neck ridges, pinching the scales, and he whimpered in a most undignified way. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, the scales around her areola teasing against his own. Elim found it all very overwhelming, and it wasn’t long before he lost himself in the sensation, in the glorious writhing and bracing of bodies that is Cardassian lovemaking.

When he came, it was a silent shudder, his teeth sunk deep in her neck ridges, and Dejara laughing delightedly. It was over rather quickly, as one might expect, but Dejara was right, and it did take the edge off his embarrassment and arousal.

Afterwards they lay together, Elim resting his head on her chest as she stroked him gently. But Elim was still a young male, and it wasn’t long before his prUt began begging to bloom again. Dejara was delighted at his ‘enthusiasm for education!’ as she called it. The evening was an erotic blur; Dejara was clearly *quite* good at her job, and seemed to delight in teaching the young man the intricacies of lovemaking, and Elim imagined he had experienced everything a male and female could do. He was wrong, of course, and this would be remedied over time, but one could forgive him for being so naive.

He was surprised, too, at Dejara’s intelligence, though, he realized he ought not to have been so surprised. When his youthful enthusiasm had reached its limits and he was no longer able to rouse his prUt from its cozy sheath, and he was, to be frank, thoroughly and completely fucked, Dejara had ordered them a meal and lazily fed him while he lounged in her lap.

He’d asked about an unfamiliar volume of poetry he’d noticed and she lit up, and began reciting something in old Kardassi. Elim enjoyed her cadence, a curious blending of talking and singing in the old language. When she was done, he rapped his knuckles on the floor in krek, in appreciation of her fine recitation.

“Thank you, Elim! You are familiar with our ancient history of the Hebitians, yes?” he nodded “I always find the old Kardassi poetry to be at its finest when sung aloud as it was meant to be. Its so dry read silently! Many over look their poetry, as it wasn’t valuable to enriching our Union, but I always had a fondness for poetry.”

“Would you sing it again for me? I would like to remember this!” Elim knew Tolan would appreciate hearing this.

Dejara was delighted, and the spent the rest of their time teaching him the poem, and discussing poetry, before Tain collected him to return home in the early morning hours.  
\----

After that first night, Tain made it clear he was welcome, encouraged even, to continue visiting the brothel on Tain’s account. His mentor had explained it was useful to be able to satisfy such needs with discretion.

“And, of course if a whore gets pregnant, its not your problem” Tain would say this with sweet venom, giving Elim a sidelong glance that filled him with a furious mix of shame and anger at the unspoken but known ‘family secret’ always underlying he and Tain’s interactions.

So Elim went back many times. At first he saw whomever was available, enjoying his time with each of the women working, but his mind would drift back to Dejara, her books and poetry, and the conversation they had that night. Soon, he sought her out specifically, only seeing others when she was unavailable. It wasn’t long before they had a standing arrangement.

This went on for months. Elim would see Dejara every few weeks, enjoying the amenities of the brothel, which also had a sauna and a decent kitchen and private dining rooms.

But he had done something wrong. Tain had summoned him to his office again, and he was furious. “You foolish child; have I taught you nothing?” Tain had hissed before slapping Elim across the face, and following with a backhand. The Obsidian Order signet ring Tain always wore cut him, and he could feel the blood trickling down his face. Tain threw a traveling cloak over his own shoulders grabbed Elim by the back of the neck, dragging him towards the skimmer in an echo of that first night.

It had to be the book. That's the only thing that was different. His last visit to Dejara, he brought her a copy of a novel he had just finished, wanting to hear her opinions of it and enjoy a rousing debate. He’d never brought her anything before, even just a book to loan and discuss.

When they stopped at the unfamiliar back end of the brothel, Tain pulled him from the skimmer, and took him by the elbow through the back corridors of the building. Of course Tain knew the back way in, hidden away so no one would see them enter. A few yards from Dejara’s room, Tain stopped them. He pulled a disruptor pistol from his belt and handed to Elim. “You have one chance. Take care of it. Don’t disappoint me.” then he shoved him down the hallway towards Dejara’s door.

When he opened the door, Dejara had been lounging on the wide chaise on which they’d first been together, reading the book he had given her. She’d sat up at the perfunctory knock, and as Elim walked in, she smiled, placing the book aside before standing to embrace him.

“Elim! How unexpected…” when she saw the disruptor in his shaking hands, she stopped, arms still outstretched, her lovely cerulean lips forming a surprised ‘oh!’.The only thing he could do was make it quick. If he didn’t, Oralius only knows what Tain would to do her. To him.

He pulled the trigger and sent a blast right at her chest, landing squarely on her chula. She didn’t make a sound as she crumpled down on to the chaise, eyes still open, arms wide.

Elim closed his eyes, trying to breath. The room was feeling incredibly small and his heart was racing. ‘The walls are not moving, Elim. You are not trapped. Breath. Get through this.’ He crept closer, and he could see the slow rise and fall of her chest. She was still alive! The damn disruptor must have been on stun. He swore, a panicked gasp as his heart pounded, his chest constricting. He gazed at her, eyes unfocused, wondering what to do, when he felt the weight of the srict’va at his waist.

Well.

He unsheathed the blade, the feel and weight of it oddly comforting in his hand. Now, at least, he felt in control. This was something familiar; he knew how to handle a knife. Then he saw the slow pulse in her neck. Yes, that should do nicely.

Elim crouched down and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, then brought the knife to her throat, quickly slicing from ear to ear. The blade, as he knew it to be, was honed so thoroughly he barely had to apply pressure to slice through her ridges, muscle, trachea. There was a gutteral sound as her last breath passed through the organ. One more flick of his wrist and he’d slice her carotid artery as well, and there was a spurt of arterial blood. In his nervousness Elim had been standing in front of her, off to the side, but enough that he received a faceful of blood. Stupid, but he would never make that mistake again.

He took a deep breath, smelling the tang of her blood inside his nostrils, and knew he was going to be sick. Switching to a shallower breath, he walked over to the small privy off the side of her room and vomited what felt like everything he’d eaten in the past three days.

Once he was thoroughly empty, he stood and stared at himself in the mirror. His face was covered in blood spray He wet a towel and carefully cleaned the blood from his face and hands. His clothing was ruined, and he would be sure to burn them later. Even if he could get the blood out, he didn’t think he could wear them again.

Once clean and steady, he looked in the mirror Garak schooled his face for the first time in to the bland, pleasant mask that would serve him well in the Order for years to come. He smoothed out his clothes, took the novel she had set aside and walked out of the room without a second glance at Dejara, stopping only to pick up the disruptor.

Tain was waiting for him right where he’d shoved him towards the door. He would have someone take care of things here, Garak knew. Tain's eyes examined him, searching for something, anything, but Garak had schooled his features too well, and Tain nodded, pleased when Garak handed him the novel. He gave Garak his own traveling cloak to cover his bloody clothing.

He was never sure if it would have always come to this, but it didn’t matter, Garak knew. Tain had wanted it done, Tain had wanted him to do it, and Tain would always have his way. It was even likely Tain had planned this from the start, knew Garak would do something to give himself away, wanted to test him, or simply wanted Garak to have blood on his hands. He would be Tain’s hands.

The skimmer ride back home was quiet until they reached their estate, until Tain had escorted the young man to his room and Garak had sat down heavily on his bed. Tain turned to leave, but stopped, framed in the doorway looking down his nose at him, and said something that was burned into his mind for the rest of his life, as Tain intended.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Garak - perhaps the most valuable one I can ever teach you. Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all.”

With that, he shut the door and left Garak mercifully alone.

‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all.’ he thought, turning the lesson over in his mind. ‘Indeed.’  
\----  
Fin

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came to me while I was reading another, where an adult Garak was a blushing virgin. I didn't find this believable, as I figured Tain would have had a creepy and overbearing hand in all aspects of Garak's life until adulthood. 
> 
> Thank you to Tinsnip's [Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) for the Cardassian anatomical terms, and the inspiration for how Cardassian on Cardassian sex could work. 
> 
> Tinsip and Vyc also coined i’duxt, which is Cardassi for Sir. 
> 
> Thanks to AlphaCygni, who coined the word and action krek, the knocking on the table with knuckles which is a Cardassian applause, which I came across in one of my *favourite* fics, [Happy Itask'haran, Mister Garak ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833034/chapters/34330502). (Seriously, this has become my go-to feel good getting together fic to reread!)
> 
>  
> 
> A few of the Cardassian words are my own devising:
> 
> srict’va - a knife given as a traditional coming of age gift
> 
> zyre - instrument similar to shamishan laid flat across one’s lap
> 
> virkalen - traditional Cardassian for women; made from a long bolt of light fabric that can be wound around the body and folded, tied and knotted in various ways. Generally worn for ceremonial or formal purposes.


End file.
